Jyrdan Fairblade asked Gary an interesting/fun question about where he would hang out in Yggsburgh.

Always looking for an excuse to read through the book again, I thought about how Count Rhuveinus would spend a typical day in Yggsburgh.

. . .

After riding in from Castle Frankfort accompanied by his faithful gnome valet Laroo Spugnar, Rhuveinus usually likes to take his breakfast and tea at the Dwarf Brewmeister Tavern usually chatting with the owner about various new tidbits of information about the happenings of the city.

Heh, and it's Laroo's favorite place in town.

The rest of the morning would be spent at the Library where the Count would be consulting with the Chief Archivist.

Lunch and a pint would be at The Green Dragon Inn and then the afternoon would consist of visits to Fanraels Occult Shop and Junkers Curiosity Shop for trades, purchases or sales.

All that walking and talking will certainly produce a mighty appetite for dinner at the Outs Inn. Roasted boar, squab, and fine red wine with his friend, The Lady Wilhemina.

After taking in a play at the Marvel, The Count will meet his friend Sir Ulric Hawkes for some brandy and cigars at the Lords & Gentlemans Club. No doubt they will play cards or billiards with some of the other members.

Just A DAY in Yggsburgh? How could one decide on what to see? What a fantastic topic, Rhu. It's time to bust out CZ1 and see where my character, Minstil Ofner might travel.
.....................................Omote

DangerDwarf swaggers up to the much esteemed looking Lords & Gentlemen Club greatly anticipating a good time. Unfortunately, he's just not quite membership material so he's unceremoniously tossed out on his a**e. Grumbling to himself about their deceptive use of the term "Gentlemen's club" he wanders off to find something else to do.

The River Rat Tavern looks to be promising, so he heads inside for several hours of drinking and entertainment in the seedy establishment. He and the shapely hostess, Melanie "Melons" Hogan, strike up a flirtatious conversation. Yeah, she's definitely not a good girl but what the hell.

He and Melanie then head out for a good time on the town visiting the gambling hall and the animal fighting arena where he makes a fair amount of coin betting.

The cavorting pair they travel to Dwarf Brewmeister tavern where he celebrates his earning with the luscious Melanie at his side.

His thirst quenched they move on to the more high-class Cockeral Casino where his luck continues and his winnings increase. Thoroughly drunk when he leaves, he's shocked when Melanie and some thugs roll him and take his winnings.

When he comes to, he's quite justifiably enraged and heads back to the River Rat where he pummels Melanie's brother (can't hit a woman now) and ends up starting a rather vicious barroom brawl. When the sheriff and the guards arrive he is carted off to the city gaol where he spend the remainder of the night licking his wounds and sleeping off his drunk.

The River Rat Tavern looks to be promising, so he heads inside for several hours of drinking and entertainment in the seedy establishment. He and the shapely hostess, Melanie "Melons" Hogan, strike up a flirtatious conversation. Yeah, she's definitely not a good girl but what the hell.

DD,

Mel is a featured character in the forthcoming module The Storehouse District, which features an expanded version of The Rat. Not just a pretty face, Melanie "Melons" Hogan is working quite a racket.
Cheers,

Ghul wrote:
Mel is a featured character in the forthcoming module The Storehouse District, which features an expanded version of The Rat. Not just a pretty face, Melanie "Melons" Hogan is working quite a racket.

DangerDwarf wrote:
DangerDwarf swaggers up to the much esteemed looking Lords & Gentlemen Club greatly anticipating a good time. Unfortunately, he's just not quite membership material so he's unceremoniously tossed out on his a**e. Grumbling to himself about their deceptive use of the term "Gentlemen's club" he wanders off to find something else to do.

The River Rat Tavern looks to be promising, so he heads inside for several hours of drinking and entertainment in the seedy establishment. He and the shapely hostess, Melanie "Melons" Hogan, strike up a flirtatious conversation. Yeah, she's definitely not a good girl but what the hell.

He and Melanie then head out for a good time on the town visiting the gambling hall and the animal fighting arena where he makes a fair amount of coin betting.

The cavorting pair they travel to Dwarf Brewmeister tavern where he celebrates his earning with the luscious Melanie at his side.

His thirst quenched they move on to the more high-class Cockeral Casino where his luck continues and his winnings increase. Thoroughly drunk when he leaves, he's shocked when Melanie and some thugs roll him and take his winnings.

When he comes to, he's quite justifiably enraged and heads back to the River Rat where he pummels Melanie's brother (can't hit a woman now) and ends up starting a rather vicious barroom brawl. When the sheriff and the guards arrive he is carted off to the city gaol where he spend the remainder of the night licking his wounds and sleeping off his drunk.

I think Count Rhuveinus could use a dwarf with your special talents. Are you good with an axe?
_________________
Count Rhuveinus - Lejendary Keeper of Castle Franqueforte

"Enjoy a 'world' where the fantastic is fact and magic really works!" ~ Gary Gygax

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes:" - Macbeth

Count Rhuveinus - Lejendary Keeper of Castle Franqueforte

"Enjoy a 'world' where the fantastic is fact and magic really works!" ~ Gary Gygax

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes:" - Macbeth

Good choice! I'd definitely have to stop by the Dwarf Brewmeister Tavern. In my campaign, it is the only place in town that serves the powerful dwarven spirit known as Cramyr - generally described as tasting as a cross between sake and vodka, with a slight hint of shiitake mushrooms.

Rhuvein wrote:
Rhuveinus usually likes to take his breakfast and tea at the Dwarf Brewmeister Tavern usually chatting with the owner about various new tidbits of information about the happenings of the city.

Pit wakes up, or opens his eyes as the first rays of a burning summer sun spill, uninvited, over the roof of some derelict shack and into a rutted, muddy alley caked with a days run-off from the street beyond.

Parched, Pit drags himself to the nearest puddle and drinks. Somewhere in him something tries to stir, a thought or emotion, something like self-respect. But its ignored and buried as that part of him which strives to survive and go forward drives his every need and desire. Pits drinks.

After some time, Pit feels a little revived so rests. He wakes again, bathed in sweat while kids pelt him with rotten tomotoes and other vegetables. To weak to move, he just hopes the rocks don't follow shortly after. As is the way of kids, its take them a long time to tire of torturing this poor pitiful soul but eventually they find another to beleager and leave him covered in rotten food for more exciting adventures like flinging horse dung at passing guardsmen.

For his part, Pit picks through the vegetables and salads and fruits, finding the most savory portions and eats them. Sustanence. Pit can make it through another day.

He picks around a bit, finds a broken box and rips a plank from it. Ahh this one has a nail in it. Then Pit waits until the sun dips below the horizon.

He moves slowly and deliberately from alley to alley and down many a sidestreet seeking out his prey. It is not long before he espies a yound drunken lout making his way out of a bar. No friends, no guards, drunk and hopefully with a few coins.

Moving ahead of him, Pit waits in the narrow slot between two row houses. As the young man passes, Pit's arm reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder, jerking him roughly into that narrow space between the buildings. With one swift blow of the plank, the young man in knocked out. Throwing the plank aside, Pit rifles through the belongings. Ahh, rings, baubles and a few coins. Nice.

Pit steps into the street, pulls his hair back, brushes off his pants looks left, then right and then across the street. With keen sense, he determines the bar across the street is closer and makes his way over their. Within moments he is inside.

Pit wakes up, or opens his eyes as the first rays of a burning summer sun spill, uninvited.....

Nab looks out the window onto the bustling streets below. He takes several deep breaths to calm his nerves and stop his hand from shaking. He turns back to look at his desk and the piles of paper, quills and inks sprawled across it.

Walking the slow crokked walk of the aged and infirm, Nab goes back to his desk and sits down. He pulls a sheaf of vellum aside and lays it alongside two others. His hand is no longer as stable as it once was and his calligraphy will soon no longer be acceptable in court. For 47 long years he has labored in this small room copying notes, missives, messages, letters and other material he cares not to think of. But not much longer will his skills put food on his table. Nab is worried.

Dutifully, he begins his work and starts over on the page he just smirched.

Only much later, almost as if by accident, he took a copy of a letter and placed it inside his shirt. As he left the scriptorium and then the palace, he knew he had made a choice on that path of life that could never be retraced. For the first time in 47 years, he had no idea what the morrow would bring. For the first time in 47 years he felt fear and trepidation and not a little excitement.

As Nab entered the rooms which he and his wife shared he knew immediately she had eaten all the potatoes for the week. All they had for the next fours days were some onions and a little jerky. Nab must once again purloin food from his master's pantry.

Nab's wife, a huge women with a thunderous voice began her nightly tirade. Nab settled down and his bed with nothing to eat and just listened. After his wife drank herself into a stupor, Nab got up, made his way to the door and headed out into an inky darkness.

Between reading up on spells and lore, come out of the tower, heading down to some of the taverns frequented by artisans and bards, a couple drinks here n' there, mull over which of my ladyfriends would like to be..."friendlier," treat her to a nice dinner, cast Summon Luuuuuuuvmasta' XXX. Wake up at noon, rinse, repeat.

Naw man, I'm one of the "new" wizards. No marriage up in this tower! Yuwwies, we are. Only hand I'd ask for is a hand with that big box o' treasure lying sadly neglected in some dank dungeon, unloved, cold without the warming rays of the sun to restore the shine of the gold. Researching Continual Latte isn't cheap y'know. Aaaaaanyguano, The Big Fish Five's playing down at the pub. Later!

below him lie the shattered bodies his foes. Screaming in agony and fear, the remaining footmen fled in terror lest the sword of Sir Goodwin March land upon them....

"Quit your daydreamig snipe!" The fat greasy palm of Trent Footer smacked Goodwin on the back of the head. "Get to work, get all that garbage out of the alley and dump it it in the wagon before I have sent to the mines. Lazy good-for-nothing lout."

Goodwin's head bobbed on his skinny neck and he saw stars. At first, he thought some spell had gotten the better of his sense. But then he looked down at the broom in his hand and then down the rat infested, rancid alley beyond. He wandered down it and started picking up trash.
If only, he thought to himself, if only the gods would give me the chance, I know I am made for better things than this. He dreamed of swords and shields, of battles won and lost, dragons and hordes of treasure, damsels and the courts of mighty kings. He dreamed and prayed the gods would give him a chance.

As it happened, in this very alley three nights prior a young man was slain. A pool of ichy blood mixed with urine, water and other fetid matter is almost all that remains of a one sided fight. The other remnant was soon disovered by Goodwin.

It was nothing more than a long dagger.

Goodwin picked it up.

Being that 'type' of person, Trent noted Goodwin crouching over something in the alley and headed that way. Trent had claim on all items of value found while cleaning the streets and should Goodwin have found something, he wanted it.

"Snipe, you worthless street urchin, what have you there?"

Goodwin grasped the knife to his chest. His immediate thought was that this would be his first blade, the one that would see him onto that path of the hero. He more than wanted it, he needed it. So he kept his back to Trent and tried to quickly hide it within his tunic.

But alas, trent noted the movements and motions of theft and thundered down the alley yelling, "Give me that or I will have hanged, quartered and burned. Give me what you have found."

Goodwin, for his part, was a frightened boy. He would never be a hero for the simple reason he would never stand and fight. He would never face death with steely eyes but dodge and dip to avoid it his whole life.

Goodwin was frightened and lost his nerve. In those moments when tremendous decisions are made time passes slowly. Many things crossed Goodwin's mind. Ultimately, he knew if he were to give the knife back it would be an acceptance of this simple life for his remaining time alive. Goodwin could do naught else though, fear of Trent, the gallows and jail and of chancy things overwhelmed him.

He turned to give the knife to Trent.

Trent slipped.

And fell straight onto the knife.

Black gooey ichor leaked from the gaping woulnd in his abdomen. Goodwin looked on, frightened to the bone. Unable to think, to act, to move. Nothing came to him.

"Murder!!!! Murderer."

Goodwin ran. He ran as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. Ke ran until he fell, exhausted, into a heap of refuse and debris behind a large building.

Thus began the career of Snipe the Gutter, slayer of civil servants, murderer most foul, thief and assassin. Enemy of all that is right and honorable.

Julian is nursing his third ale at the Green Dragon. He draws on his pipe watching the crowd nervously. He hates crowds and wishes again that he was back in his home sequestered away from all these people. But he is here for a purpose and damn, he needs the money for the herbs from the apothocary that helps stave off the thoughts of hopelessness that overtake him. Just a little longer and they'll be here he thinks, just a little longer...
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My blog

Lord Skystorm

Grand Knight Commander KoTC, Member C&CS

Donner Party Meats: We're here to serve YOU!

AD&D per se is as dead a system as Latin is a language, while the C&C game has much the same spirit and nearly the same mechanics. --Gary Gygax 8/16/06

Simone places the stranger's third flagon of ale down. She notes that he does not know his dour and foul mood have insured the seats around him are empty. The rest of the place is busy as a hive with bees, how can he not know.

She walks over to another table with an extra wiggle in her step in the hopes of getting better tips. The evening has proven to be a bust and stranger's mood is keeping customers away. But this and other things are all just trivial matters this evening. After seeing to her customers, Simone heads through the kitchen, grabs a jug of milk, goes out back and sits on a barrel.

She looks up at the sky. Its dark and the stars are out shining bright as ever. Simone looks to the north and east. A falling star arcs across the sky in that direction Simone smiles.

She pulls out a pipe, stuffs it, strikes a match and takes a long pull. She curls her legs up so she is sitting entirely atop the barrel and thinks of the young man who wandered through some weeks ago. Handsome and bursting with energy, his promises and sweet talk and not a little beer resulted in a long night alone.

He was going to come back from that dreadful place with riches untold and more powerful than counts and barons. She smiled.

And vomited.

Simone wiped her mouth, spit, chugged some milk and took another deep drag of the pipe. I pray he does not forget me. Simone places her hand on her belly. For I have no family and will soon lose my job at the bar and have no way to care for your child.

Julian watched the barmaid leave his table. She was pleaseing to the eye and here pleasent manner soothed him some. Again he cursed those dark feelings that overtook him. He'd been too long without the herbs and too long in his drinks as of late.

Finally the persons he was waiting for came into view. Julian nodded at them and they came to the table. Their nervous looks gave them away as new to this game. Easy prey for extra coin if he pushed them right.

The two men were obvious noble types trying to fit into the crowd and failing at that. Not that anyone cared. They explained the job to him simply. Break into the estate of Count Dexter and destroy his will replacing it with the forgery they provided. Julian accepted and got a fair amount of coin in advance.

He left them to pay his tab and left a nice tip for the barmaid. After all he had been rather uncivil towards her. A couple extra coins ensured she would know where it came from. Julian left the Green Dragon to go to the Apothocary and then to scout Count Dexters estate.
_________________
The Lord of Ravens
My blog

Lord Skystorm

Grand Knight Commander KoTC, Member C&CS

Donner Party Meats: We're here to serve YOU!

AD&D per se is as dead a system as Latin is a language, while the C&C game has much the same spirit and nearly the same mechanics. --Gary Gygax 8/16/06

The next day finds Count Rhuveinus at breakfast at the Outs Inn ~ with the Lady Wilhelmina, Laroo, and Sir Ulric Hawkes. They are soon joined by Aldadius, Sir Alec of Gaxhill and the Pious Roland dArgent

What news from Botkinburg, Aldadius? says the Count.

The orcs are massing their forces in the east . . and Ungern abound!

Sir Alec turns to look at the wizard, Ungern, what is that?

Minions of Unklar, Sir Alec, evil and twisted, says the good Priest Roland.

The waiter brings tea and water for all to the table along with biscuits and cheese.

I will appear at the Tower today to speak with many of our friends here and Dunfalcon. Thats why Aldadius has made the journey from Botkinburg.

After some moments of silence and good eating, the Lady Wilhelma says to no one in particular, The Empress Pryzmira is coming to Yggsburgh! The heralds will announce it tomorrow.

Sir Ulric practically spits out his beverage and exclaims, Here??? By the beard of St. Luther, thats astounding. My dear Lady Wilhelmina, how do you know these things?

The Count laughs, Wilhelmina is on very good terms with the Empress. Im very lucky in that regard. After she granted me my title, she has not been happy with my pursuit of the secrets of Castle Zagyg. She expects me to spend more time at court.

There are rumors of the fog lifting at Zagygs Castle, says Sir Alec.

Ive heard them too, I hope to find out today, if this is true.

Later that morning, out in the Central Courtyard, Count Rhuvein flashes a small mirror up to the sky. Within moments a massive bird of prey lands beside the Count. Laroo feeds the bird a large rodent recently caught in the kitchen of the Inn.

After devouring the critter, the bird allows Rhuveinus to scatch his head. He then speaks to the bird who seems to nod and in a quick snap of wings it takes flight. A feather floats down into the Counts hand, who pockets it and heads back into the Inn.
_________________
Count Rhuveinus - Lejendary Keeper of Castle Franqueforte

"Enjoy a 'world' where the fantastic is fact and magic really works!" ~ Gary Gygax

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes:" - Macbeth

Count Rhuveinus - Lejendary Keeper of Castle Franqueforte

"Enjoy a 'world' where the fantastic is fact and magic really works!" ~ Gary Gygax

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes:" - Macbeth

"I heard in the Outs Inn today that Lady Pryzmyra is coming to town." A middle aged women said to hsuband. She was happy. Excited no less. He, less so.

The husband, for his part, nursed his leg and continued to look into his son's face. His son, lie sweating upon a bed of hay. The boy was dying.

"She could pass her blessings on to him! Cure him, save him."

The husband just stared. "Yes my lovely wife, yes she could." But he had long given up upon the benificense of nobles and knights. Too many years, too much struggle, too many deaths.... To divert the attention of those powerful enough to intervene between life and death for so young and poor a boy would require a miracle.

The husband, for his part, did not believe in miracles. His only hope on this day was that his boy would survive one more day while he was away cleaning cisterns. He hoped he would come home and his son would still be alive.

The wife, for her part, was devising a plan. Desperation was driving her.